


Rusted Memories

by klaviergavout



Category: Wicked - Schwartz/Holzman
Genre: Angst, Gen, a happy ending if you squint?, and also some time to vent, boq deserves so much better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 06:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14254743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klaviergavout/pseuds/klaviergavout
Summary: Boq visits Nessarose's grave one night and comes face-to-face with the person he's condemned all these years.He makes a choice.





	Rusted Memories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pontmercie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pontmercie/gifts).



Boq still doesn't know how he came across the grave that night. He remembers well the day she died; when the house came crashing down upon her, when the entirety of Munchkinland began to celebrate, it had felt to him as if the whole world had been lifted from his shoulders. Years of being at her every beck and call, of pretending to even remotely care for her, had eaten away at him until there was almost no Boq left to order about. He had once thought that losing his heart had been a sudden punishment he did not deserve, but Boq knew now that he was wrong- he knew now that his heart had begun to shrink the moment he first laid eyes on Nessarose.

So he's unsure, then, what led him to the measly plaque at the base of a gnarled oak tree. It did not mention Nessarose; it did not mention any Governess; it merely stated  _'Here lies the Wicked Witch of the East'_ , and Boq could not disagree. He laughed when he noticed that the plaque had rusted too. He laughed to think that after all these years, she'd succumbed to the exact same fate as he had. Perhaps in that way, after all these years, he would never be free of the Governess. He reached up to touch the amber streaks of rust on his shoulder-plate and wished that he was dead.

"Boq, it's you," breathed a soft voice from behind him, and he didn't even have to turn around to know precisely who it was. Boq couldn't say he had known Elphaba that well throughout their time at Shiz, but the day she'd cast this metallic curse upon him- the very day he'd sworn himself in as a witch hunter- had etched her voice into his brain as if it were her parting gift.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't go tell everyone you're still alive," he replied, clutching his axe so tightly that he could hardly feel his fingers. Even a witch wasn't immune to the well-placed blow of an axe, and he'd had ample time to practise on trees once the witch hunters had disbanded. "I'm a witness now, you know. A danger to you. You might as well have just stayed dead."

He'd hit a nerve, it seemed. The sharp intake of breath from behind him was enough to send his body into fight or flight, make his body curl up on instinct, metal joints groaning and squeaking in protest, eyes clenched tight in fear he could no longer feel. Boq waited for the spell to hit him, to grant him the death he'd wished for ever since he'd woken up in this empty tin excuse of a body, but it never did. Instead, Elphaba said nothing, simply walked forward to stand beside him. He spat bitterly on the ground by her feet.

"Oz doesn't need another wild goose chase," Elphaba began, staring quietly down at the plaque as she spoke. "If you tell everyone I'm alive, they'll panic, Boq. Do you want that?"

"You know what I want, Elphaba?" Metal as he was, Boq couldn't keep his voice from trembling, couldn't keep his anger from seeping through non-existent veins. "I want a  _heart._  I want _love._  I want everything that you and your wicked sister took from me."

"Don't call her that."

"Don't call her that?  _Don't call her that?_  I have every right to call her that! She cut off my family, she isolated me, she took away my  _freedom._ For so many years!"

"I'm sorry."

" _You're_  sorry? You're just as wicked as she is. You were there when I tried to leave, but all you did was ruin everything!" Oily tears slid down his cheeks as he cried out, his outburst only fuelled further by the realisation that he hadn't cried since Shiz. "You let her shrink my heart! You cursed me with this-- this _shell!_ "

"Boq, I--"

"And stop calling me  _Boq!"_ Anger empowered him. In an instant he swung his arm towards her, the blade of his axe stopping mere inches away from her neck. "That's not my name anymore. I'm the Tin Woodsman now."

Boq stared her down from behind the axe, reaching his other arm up to wipe the messy tears from his eyes. She was visibly shaken, breath coming in violent heaves, and for a moment she didn't seem like a witch at all- her fear made her seem more human to Boq than she'd ever been.

"You want to kill me, Boq? Then do it. Take your revenge."

_Revenge?_

His mind flashed back to the witch hunters, remembering how badly they'd wanted to be in his current position, to have the Wicked Witch of the West at their mercy. His mind flashed back, too, to Dorothy- the little girl who'd shown him kindness when no one else had. If Dorothy had known Elphaba back at Shiz, if she'd known Nessarose like he did, would she have melted the Wicked Witch? Would she have taken the ruby slippers? Would she have turned against the two witches, or pitied them just like she'd pitied him?

Boq dropped the axe.

"I won't hurt you, Elphaba. I won't stoop to your level. Or anyone else's." Boq turned to look at the plaque, stared at it for a very long time before continuing. "I'm going to be me again."

"I'm sorry, Boq--"

"I told you, that's not my name. And I think--" here he took a deep, shuddering breath, holding back the tears that threatened to fall again-- "I think we're done here."

Elphaba's magic was sudden, silent, unnoticed- she disappeared in the blink of an eye, and it took a good minute for him to even notice she was gone.

The Tin Woodsman never visited the grave again.


End file.
